


pursuing pleasure more than obedience

by ships_to_sail



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Banter, Fluff, M/M, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/pseuds/ships_to_sail
Summary: “What is that?”“It’s a dog, David.”“I know it’s a dog, what is it doing in our apartment?”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 9
Kudos: 130





	pursuing pleasure more than obedience

**Author's Note:**

> Patrick adopts a dog, sort of, and David hates it, mostly.

“What is  _ that _ ?”

“It’s a dog, David.”

“I know it’s a dog, what is it doing in our apartment?”

“ _ Our  _ apartment? Why is it  _ our  _ apartment when there’s a dog in it, but  _ my  _ apartment when it comes time to change the air filter or snake the plumbing lines?”

“Because I don’t make the rules, Patrick. Snaking the plumbing sounds like something I once saw Robert Irwin doing at a pool party.”

“What is your life?”

“A question I ask myself every day, dear. But back to the subject at hand -  _ whose  _ dog is currently sitting in our apartment?”

“Ew, David, there’s a dog here?” He still hasn’t closed the door behind him and now Alexis is here, standing in the doorway early, to pick him up for their trip to a potential new honey vendor. She’s hoping to pick up a new social media brand manager gig, and David hates driving alone, so it works out. 

“Now there are two dogs here, Alexis, one of whom is fifteen minutes early.” She makes a face at him, flipping him the bird. Patrick just stands in the little kitchen of their apartment, patting the dog on the head and watching the verbal volley back and forth between them. He has that patented Patrick Brewer blend of incredulousness and admiration on his face, like even now he’s still not used to the way the Rose siblings communicate with each other. David continues, his attention back on Patrick and the dog. “What I’m still waiting to find out is how  _ this _ dog got here.”

“The adoption fair.”

“Adoption fair. So, like, adopted. Forever.”

“That tends to be what adopted means, yes.”

David just sputters at him, eyes wide, like his brain is short-circuiting in real time. “Who just gets a dog?!"

“Aww, I think she’s kind of cute,” Alexis says from behind him, although Patrick notices she hasn’t actually stepped further into the apartment since she set eyes on the pup. “What’s her name?”

“Daisy.” When Patrick says her name, Daisy’s head perks up, her huge blue eyes focusing on him and her tongue falling out the side of her mouth. She looks derpy, and messy, and completely adorable. To everyone who isn’t David Rose.

“Well I’m sure Daisy is lovely, but dogs are simply not appropriate.”

“Your lease says no dogs, Patrick?”

“No, Alexis, it doesn’t.”

“Not. Appropriate.” David repeats, pinching his fingers in the air for emphasis. The motion catches Daisy’s attention, who lopes away from Patrick’s side and over to David’s sniffing his feet and trying to lick the ends of his fingers. David pulls his hand back like he’s about to get bitten, but Daisy just presses forward, nosing at his crotch and sniffing loudly. “Oh my God!”

“Daisy, here.” At the authority in Patrick’s voice, Daisy turns and sits back at his feet. David kind of can’t blame her. He responds to that bossy voice in a similar, if ultimately more dignified fashion. And, okay, fine, it is sort of adorable the way she stares at him like he's her whole world, David can relate to that, too. 

"So where exactly were you planning on having Daisy sleep in this humble abode of ours?"

"Kinda figured she'd sleep in Elmdale, actually. With her new family."

David looks back and forth between Patrick and Alexis, like he's expecting her to have some kind of answers. "I don't understand."

And then he sees it. The tiniest clench of Patrick's jaw, a twitch in the left corner of his mouth, the thinnest flush of red up his neck that means he's physically working to keep it together. It's all so small, and quick, it'd be practically invisible to anyone who didn't know Patrick's body like a second language. "Oh you motherfucker."

Alexis looks legitimately shocked. "David!"

"You," David draws out the last syllable, pointing at Patrick, whose eyes are wide and owlish, "are such a dick."

"David, I'm hurt." Patrick steps into David's space and keeps stepping as David puts up his hands and pushes weakly against his chest, squirming and smiling. "I thought you'd love a dog!"

"No you did not, because you are not a moron!" 

Patrick beams at him. "That's really sweet, David, that you don't think a moron." He slips his hands into the back pockets of David's baggy shorts, pulling them together so that their hip bones meet. He leans backwards a little so he can look at the taller man from under his eyelashes before he ducks up and kisses him, catching David's lower lip and sucking on it gently as he licks at the seam of David's mouth. He feels David relent, his lips parting as his arms wrap around Patrick's neck and he traces a finger along his hairline, eliciting a shiver and the smallest hitch of Patrick's breath. David swallows the sound like he could live on it.

Which he would, if Alexis's shrill "Oh my God, David," cuts between them like a knife.

"Shut up Alexis."

"We're going to be late." He hates her because she's right. He untangles himself from Patrick, but not before pressing a soft kiss to his temple. He grabs his wallet out of the bowl on the kitchen table and follows Alexis out the door.

It's three-quarters of the way closed when David's torso pops back through the doorway. "Can I look forward to Daisy being here when I get home?"

"Yes, you can." David's face falls, and Patrick laughs. "But only until the morning when I can take her to her new home with a cousin of Twyla's in Elmdale."

David makes a little grunt in the back of his throat and rolls his eyes. "Fine. Just keep her out off my sweaters, they're not dry clean."

"Damn, guess I better go ahead and grab that black Helmut Lang number I put down on her puppy pad then."

"You're not funny, but I'm very proud of you for learning which one the Helmut Lang is."

"Goodbye, David."

David grins as he closes the door. "Goodbye, Patrick."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["The Dogs at Live Oak Beach, Santa Cruz"](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50826/the-dogs-at-live-oak-beach-santa-cruz) by Alicia Ostriker


End file.
